


heart stain on the carpet.

by katarama



Series: leave this blue neighborhood. [11]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Flashbacks, Jack Zimmermann's Overdose, M/M, Pre-Draft, Pre-Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10687638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: In another day, Jack knows he is going to be staring down his dad’s disappointed face, is going to have to acknowledge that he isn’t good enough.  That he hasn’t worked hard enough.  Hasn’t taken advantage of the opportunities he’s been given, when he’s been given every single opportunity a hockey player could dream of.In another day, the whole world will know something that Jack’s known all along.  Kent Parson is a better player than him, and Kent Parson is his generation’s shining star.





	heart stain on the carpet.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  **If you're new to this series, start[HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10586022).**

**June 25, 2009**

 

 

Jack is tired.

He doesn’t think he’s been this tired in his entire life.  Not during the hockey season, after a day of classes and a regulation hockey game.  Not during Kent’s adventures out into the world, or after a long day of driving for a roadie.

Or, maybe it’s just that this kind of tired is harder than that kind.  This is the kind of tired where not only does Jack’s body feel like lead, but his brain feels filled with cotton balls, or static.  This is the kind of tired where doing much of anything sounds exhausting.  He attributes it to the fact that even leaving his room and heading downstairs means his parents’ expectant faces and conversations about this giant thing that’s looming over his head, means the newspaper on the table and ESPN on TV.

It means remembering that in another day, the whole world will know something that Jack’s known all along.  That Kent Parson is a better player than him, is his generation’s shining star.  That Kent Parson is number one draft material.  That Kent Parson is going to change the world of hockey wherever he goes, even if it’s to the Aces, who haven’t had a winning season yet.

It means remembering that in another day, Jack is going to be staring down his dad’s disappointed face, is going to have to acknowledge that he isn’t good enough.  That he hasn’t worked hard enough.  Hasn’t taken advantage of the opportunities he’s been given, when he’s been given every single opportunity a hockey player could dream of.

He’s missed a lot of texts from Kenny.  Some from his other teammates, too, but most of all from Kent.  Just the thought of trying to catch up to his increasingly full inbox sounds exhausting, though Jack knows he’s going to have to do it eventually.  He’s just been trying to stay away from his phone, because one second he’s checking his messages, and the next he’s binge reading the google news alert for his name that he shouldn’t even have, that Kent tried to delete because he caught Jack on the verge of a panic attack reading one of the articles that used overrated just a few too many times.

“Hey,” Kent had said, a hand on Jack’s back, rubbing soothing circles, even as his voice was fierce.  “Let’s delete that.  Those people don’t know shit about you, and they don’t… they don’t know shit about hockey.  They’re just paid to stir shit up, and, people recognize your name.  It doesn’t actually mean anything.”

In that moment, it was good.  But Kent has been just as much of a stressor as he has been stress relief.  Jack knows that Kent has a lot on his mind, that he’s been running around in circles about stuff like his sexuality and liking boys and liking Jack.  He’s been talking about it for weeks now, like he can’t seem to move past it, like he can’t seem to divorce himself from the idea of coming out with a bang.  He keeps thinking about the future, and about how hard it’s going to be hiding things.

Jack can’t even bring himself to think that far into the future, into actually playing in the NHL and what that’s going to be like.  Jack can barely even mentally get through the draft.  And right now, there are much more pressing concerns.  He doesn’t have the space in his brain to get past the constant spurts of intense anxiety, the immediate need to read more statistics about draft orders in the past, the constant picking in his brain that if he just reads another article, reads another blog post, watches another video, it will soothe his nerves instead of sending him spiraling down darker.

Jack knows that Kent has a google alert set up for the number two draft city, and it makes things even worse.  Because he knows Kent wants this, knows Kent deserves it.  Kent is smart and savvy and hardworking and good, and when he gets constructive criticism from coaches, he forces himself to be all ears, even though he bristles at criticism, because he’s eager to get better.  He’s dealing with the pressure of the draft and the calls from his mom and the conversations with Jack’s dad like it’s easy for him, like what is crushing Jack is something that can just roll of Kent’s back.

Jack’s anxiety medication bottle, which is supposed to have enough pills to last him another two weeks, is getting startlingly close to empty.  He can count the number of pills left, and it isn’t very many at all.  Jack knows the location of every bottle of booze in his house, knows which ones he can smuggle or top off without anyone noticing.  He knows exactly how many pills it takes before the anxiety is lost in medicated nothingness, and he knows that that number has been getting steadily higher over the last year or so.  He knows it’s only a matter of time before nothing can save him.  Before no amount of medication will quiet his brain, before the constant doubt or the frantic certainty of failure that have been eating at his waking mind are finally proven right.

The last few days, he’s been wondering if maybe it would just be easier to give up on his own terms.

It’d be easy.  It’d be so, so incredibly easy.  A little more alcohol.  A few more pills.  He’d never have to worry about disappointing people again.  He’d never have to watch everything he worked for fall apart, never have to watch himself be pitted against the boy he loves.  He’d have all this weight lifted off his shoulders, and he could finally have a fucking break.  

It’s the most appealing thing he can think of, after a week straight of being unable to sleep because he has the image of the TV screen burned into the back of his eyes, the voices of commentators ringing in his ears.  He’s had a lifetime of knowing that he’ll always fall just short of what is expected of him, that he’ll never be as good as his dad was, or as good as he wants himself to be.  Or as good as Kenny will be, when he has the chance to be.  When he isn’t fighting his way out from under Jack’s overrated shadow.  When he isn’t distracted by loving a boy who collapses under pressure, loving a boy who he constantly has to piece together, to talk down, to coax through deep breaths just to be able to function on a basic level.

Kent hasn’t said the words.  Hasn’t said I love you.  But Jack knows he feels them, and Jack feels them, too.  Jack has felt them for a long time and has known that the second he said them out loud, there was no going back.  

Jack doesn’t want to close any doors for Kent.  

Jack knows it’d be easier, if Kent didn’t have to love Jack.  If Kent could get over Jack and could love some boy who could make him happy, instead of a boy who is always going to be hiding.  Who is going to spend the rest of his life being afraid that everyone is going to hate him for being who he is, who is going to try desperately to be what everyone wants him to be and who is going to fall short every time.

But it isn’t really just about Kent.  It isn’t even mostly about Kent.  Jack is tired.  Jack isn’t going to get any less tired for the rest of his life.  And if he’s going to do this, then there’s no better time to do it than now.  Before he signs with a team that will have to deal with his shit all the time.  Before Kent enters the NHL by doing something reckless.  Before he lets his dad and his dad’s friends down.  

He waits it out the rest of the day, to let himself change his mind.  He hugs his parents before bed and tells them he loves them.  He texts Kent goodnight and wishes him good luck for tomorrow.  Tells Kent he’s sure Kent is going to go first in the draft, that he’ll make his mom proud.

Jack should be worried about the draft.  But everything feels lighter from afar, now that he’s made up his mind.

He grabs a bottle of scotch and counts up his pills.

He should have just enough to do this one thing right, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](http://polyamorousparson.tumblr.com).


End file.
